Races
by Sorflakne
Summary: Short drabbles on the races and relay held during sophomore year.


**Races**

_by Sorflakne_

_I don't own the AzuGirls and all that jazz._

_**The 100**_

I look at the group of boys and girls as we gather at the track's starting line. I recognize none of them, which is a good thing. That means I'm not facing off against any track runners or other varsity team members. I toe the rubber pavement below me; this'll be an easy race.

The announcer tells us to get to our lanes, and I take my place at the outer edge of the track. To one side, I hear the cheers of my classmates as they scream for victory. They are confident in the knowledge that I will not let them down. I grin as I stretch my quad muscles while the other runners figure out their stances. Just watching them tells me all I need to know. Easy race indeed.

And then I see her. A tall girl, easily a head above the next tallest student, a boy. She has a mass of black hair that reaches down her back, and she stands erect, no nervous slouch or slumped shoulders. Her expressionless eyes gaze straight ahead, ignorant of the runners next to her or the noise around us. I lean around the student next to me to get a better view of her, and am momentarily surprised to see that long, muscular legs make up a good portion of her height. She also has a rather large chest; my thoughts go from her potential running ability to wondering if she suffers back pains.

A whistle calls for we runners to assume the starting stance, breaking me away from my contemplation. I am certain of my abilities, one unknown will not throw me off; I've beaten track runners in races before. I crouch in position with the others, focused on the straightaway of track before me. One hundred meters away from an easy victory. I can already see the finish line pass beneath me.

The pistol fires, and before I realize it, I'm sprinting down the track before the sound finishes registering in my ears. I slice through the air as it flows past my ears, creating the illusion that I'm running in a strong wind. I leave the others behind and quickly eat up the distance.

Then I see a black and white flash in the corner of my eye, and to my amazement, the tall girl suddenly appears as if from nowhere and pulls ahead. Before I can react, we cross the finish line, the tape stuck to the front of her shirt. She beat me by maybe two meters. No, not even two meters.

I can only watch in shock as the first place flag is handed to her. She accepts it with a single nod. No fist-pump, no victory cry, not even a smile or wave of the flag to acknowledge her own victory. Instead, she walks away, head inclined slightly down. She maintains her stately posture, and isn't even breathing heavy, that I can tell anyway.

Ok, it was only one race, and I let my guard down. Stupid of me, but it was the first event of the day. It was my wakeup call to tell me that I cannot let myself slack off. I won't fail Coach or my class again. My game face is on. Let's do this!

_**The 400**_

The 400 meter race. This time I'm giving it my all. Not only because of what happened this morning, but because the varsity track runners from other classes are running this time. The 100 meter race was nothing, it was there to get people excited about the athletics day and put them in the mood. The 400 is for real, this is where the points will really matter.

I stretch my calves to prevent any potential cramps. Not that it's needed, really. After years of swim team, I seldom if ever cramp up anymore, but I'm playing it safe and taking no chances. I made my mistake earlier, I won't make another because of my overconfidence.

The whistle calls us to the line, and I take my stance with the others. I hear sneakers crunching on the rubber and look behind me to see the tall girl from before enter the line, only two lanes separate us. It doesn't matter why she was late to the starting line, but I know that her presence just made this particular race a whole lot more interesting. Now I'd get to see her in action against real runners, and this time I was ready for her. She could sprint, yes, but would she be able to keep it up for almost half a kilometer? I realized that a small part of me wanted the answer to be 'Yes', just for the sake of seeing it happen. But the rest of me hoped she would burn out.

We crouch in anticipation, and don't have long to wait. Seconds later, amid the constant screams and cheers, the pistol cracks, and almost as one, we are sprinting like cheetahs.

I round the first curve. Only a few runners are abreast or ahead of me. I'm surprised to see the black-haired girl among them. For a few seconds, I'm able to see her profile in full sprint: She takes incredibly long strides, keeping her upper body erect with only the faintest hint of a forward lean. Even at full speed, her expression is unreadable, as if sprinting were the most casual thing to do; either that, or she is deep in concentration. Her arms swing in sync with her legs, and her long hair billows behind her, its mass seemingly not affecting her speed at all. I can only watch in admiration of her form as she pulls ahead of me at the end of the curve.

Wait, 'pulls ahead'? Shit!

I lean further into my sprint, pounding the rubber as hard as I can to catch up. At the same time, I want to kick myself for letting my concentration slide again. Save it for after the race, I told myself. Win first, criticize later.

Soon, I am alongside what is now my only competition. We have left the other runners in our metaphorical dust, and as the finish line nears, we both ran harder, aware of each other's presence and not wanting to stop now.

To my amazement, she seems to effortlessly lengthen her stride beyond what should be possible, even for a person of her height, and she moves a few meters ahead of me. Seconds later, she once again trails the white tape that sticks to her chest as we come to a stop. As with before, she accepts the placement flag with barely a nod and walks away as the rest of the runners finish crossing the line.

I lean forward with my hands on my knees, breathing hard to catch my breath as I watch her disappear into the congratulatory crowd of students. What the hell is she? I asked myself.

_**The Relay**_

The final event of the day. Four students from each class will run in the relay. Even though I didn't take either the 100 or 400 meter races, my class, and Coach Kurosawa, lead me to the track with the other designated runners. We arrange ourselves by a pre-determined setup, and I am last in line. Coach comes up to me and offers words of encouragement, telling me to forget about the previous races and only focus on what's in front of me. She pats me on the shoulder, and says luck is only for the unprepared. I'm unsure of what she means by that, but I smile and thank her all the same.

The relay starts, and we watch the first tier of runners sprint around the track. As I follow our runner, I happen to notice a now familiar sight standing in one of the lines.

Her.

Like me, She watches the track, Her head rotating slightly as She follows Her particular runner, who happens to finish last. I feel sort of guilty for the poor girl, as she nearly collapses from exhaustion while leaving the track.

The relay progresses, and soon, the third tier of runners are on the track. My class is in the lead, with Her class close behind. I get in position on the track, hand ready to grab the baton. The girl from Her class is fast, but my class's runner outpaces her and finishes first. I take the offered baton and blast off down the track. All bets are now off, I throw every last bit of energy I can summon into my initial burst. The world passes by in a blur, and all that's on my mind is to simply keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other, breath in, breath out. I round the first curve. As near as I can tell, I have a commanding lead.

Midway through the following straightaway, a flash of white crosses my vision, and I am only slightly shocked to see Her pass me, powered forward by Her inhuman stride.

Not this time, not this time, I say to myself as I lengthen my own stride, overtaking Her and then keeping the pace. I don't need to beat Her by much, I need to maintain a lead for just long enough to finish ahead.

She also speeds up, leaning forward and soon coming abreast of me. She keeps Her gaze straight ahead, but I notice that Her jaw is set. So She is human after all, and is feeling the effects of a dead sprint. She passes me once again, barely an arm's length this time, and I push harder, passing her again.

By now we are on the final stretch. We are even with each other, moving as fast as we possibly can. I pass her again, only to lose the lead and grab it again. We go back and forth a few times, neither of us gaining a reliable lead. The finish line is suddenly directly ahead, and we both lean into our sprint as far as we can.

And then I suddenly realize another advantage She has. Along with Her stride, She stands probably twenty centimeters taller than me. Even though we are even with each other, Her additional reach puts Her barely ahead, and She snags the tape as we cross the line.

I veer off to the side and collapse to my knees, gasping for breath. I look up to see Her come to a stop further ahead, members of Her class surround and congratulate Her on their victory. I climb to my feet as my own class gathers around me. They pat me on the back and tell me I did great, but it's not the same. I blink a few times and rub my eyes, pretending to wipe away sweat, when in reality, I'm trying to suppress unbidden tears.

_**Sakaki**_

I decline partaking in the folk dance. Mainly because I'm not much of a dancer, but also because the motivation and spirit I felt earlier is gone. Taken by losing the relay and the 100 and 400 meter. To a very talented runner, sure, but that thought does nothing to change my mood. Instead, I sit in the shade of an awning, drinking water as I watch the folk dancers.

I become aware of another person, and I look over to see Coach sit down next to me. She asks me how my day is, and I reply with the truth. She chuckles and says that she doesn't blame me, knowing how competitive I am, but tells me again that it is all in the past, and that one day doesn't matter, that there is always tomorrow. I tell her that I couldn't keep the promise I made to our class, that I would carry away first place in the races, and how everyone will look at me now. I think it's a valid concern, since I've seen athletes make similar promises only to be scorned when they couldn't uphold them.

Coach shakes her head and says that won't be the case. She says that in the final stretch of the relay, even as Sakaki and I were neck and neck, I still gave it everything I had, and that in the end, the fact that I never gave up was more important than winning itself. Coach says she's proud of me, and our class for the effort we put forth today.

I feel a little better after hearing Coach's words, but I'm still worried about facing the rest of the class. Instead, I tell her I'll probably be focusing more on my workouts now. She laughs, and says that for someone who never played on an organized sports team, Sakaki is a formidable natural athlete. She adds that if the two of us were ever put on the same team, we would be unstoppable. I catch Coach's meaning, and nod in agreement; she would be a welcome addition to the swim team.

Coach stands. Before she leaves, she says to enjoy the rest of the day, especially since there should be no homework due tomorrow. I guess I can't argue with that.

As Coach leaves, I hone in on the name she mentioned: Sakaki.

Hmm…


End file.
